


Impossible

by shoesoftennis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Betrayal, Broken Heart, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4439882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoesoftennis/pseuds/shoesoftennis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia up and leaves America one day, leaving America broken-hearted. Alfred isn't doing well... And it only gets worse when Ivan calls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impossible

**Author's Note:**

> Based on of the song "Impossible" by James Arthur. (But I think that's a cover, and I'm not sure who the original artist is.)

(America's POV)

I scrubbed my hands through my hair, squishing shampoo between the golden-brown strands. They were damp, so they weren't their normal blond color. I flattened my drooping bangs back against the crown of my head and sluggishly rinsed the soap out. The frothy bubbles swirled down the drain, leaving me forever.

It seemed weird to be sentimental about soap suds, but I couldn't really help it. It was like my emotions had been brought out from under a rock and now attached themselves to everything I touched or saw or heard. I wasn't sure about things I smelled. My sinuses were stuffed up with snot from crying so much.

Abruptly angry at my present condition, I rammed my fist against the shower wall. Water flowed down my face in rivulets. At least, I hoped it was just water and not more tears. God, I was tired of crying! I'd been doing it all day for the last week, and I'd finally stopped this morning. But I felt a wave of remorse and loneliness surging up my throat and throughout my head and knew I'd break down soon.

My muscles tensed then melted, and only by the power of sheer will did I stay standing. A strangled scream ground out of my throat. Sniffles and broken, piteous whines followed while tears burned my eyes and cheeks. A thousand needles pricked and poked my heart, squeezing it until I thought it would shrivel up from the pressure of turmoil.

My eyelids slid shut against the onslaught of reality. Darkness collapsed on top of me like a weight, dragging me deeper into the depths of despair. "Why did you go? Why did you go? Come back!" I yelled to someone long gone.

As I sobbed without any particular filter, I imagined feeling his calloused hands wrap around my waist and tell me there was only a humongous line at the grocery store, to tell me the car had broken down, to tell me... some lie I would believe. But I knew he wouldn't come back. This time there had been no note, no text, no call, no email, no Facebook message. Just the cold side of an unmade bed. His side of the closet was empty too, and I had fallen onto my knees in utter sorrow.

I had no idea when I began to fall for Russia. He always disagreed with me at meetings even after we started dating. He dug up secrets about my past and destroyed my public image... He shattered it even more than it already was. My heart broke each time he ripped on me in one of his world meeting speeches. He was gaining power over me, and I knew it, but I couldn't bring myself to fight him. Maybe I feared him, and that alone kept me at bay despite how much I wanted to shout at him, to ask him, "Why are you so twisted? Why can't you just love me like I love you?"

Ivan Braginsky told me he loved me, though. A lot. Especially after we started living together. He would put fresh sunflowers in a vase when he had a day off and could tend to his garden. He would cook us borsch and hamburgers (though the meat was usually tough as a boot) for dinner, and we would have a nice meal. Well, until he brought up something about his beloved communism.

Look, I'm all for people speaking their minds, but the way he pushed his ideal on me made me want to hate him. And boy, did I try. I laid in bed night after night thinking about all the scary, psychotic aspects of his personality, but by dawn, I always ended up with a longer list of pros than cons. Damn my uncontrollable positivity! And damn Russia's sweet smile and demeanor!

I lathered soap gruffly onto my washcloth and then squeezed the cloth in sudden anger. Who the fuck did he think he was? My hands trembled, and all I could think about was him. Russia. The communist bastard. Ivan Braginsky. My ex-boyfriend.

The wound deepened when I thought of it like that. My ex-boyfriend. Like I was cutting him out of my life for good. No more contact, no more love, no more... no more Russia.

I nearly lost my balance again, my knees and about every other mechanism in my body shutting down. I held onto the wall, the cold droplets condensing on the tiles slipped into my palm. I bit my lower lip. God, why was I so weak? A hero should be strong - both physically and emotionally. Wait... Was I still a hero? A chuckle slipped from my mouth - menacing and psychotic. I wanted to stop immediately, but my chest condensed, and air just kept flowing out in the most evil way. My mind raced. A hero. _If I'm a hero, then he's a villain. He's the villain that seduced me, took me home, tied me up, made love to me, made me love him, and then took everything away from me when he walked out the door and never came back. He's the monster that slept in my bed instead of being banned beneath it. Why was I so dumb? I couldn't tell the difference between a human and a demon. A fallen angel looking for just the right idiot to slaughter,_ I thought, my hatred and fear getting the better of me.

I knew everything I said was blown way out of proportion. This was just a break-up, right? I didn't want to be like a girl who sat around watching Netflix and eating ten pints of ice cream. But you become from what you fear most, I guessed. Suddenly, I heard Ivan's ringtone pierce through the pitter-patter of the shower water.

"W-what the-?" I said, scrambling like a needy twit to turn the water off and grab the phone. I succeeded, but I didn't have time to wrap a towel around me (well, I thought I didn't). When I answered the phone, I expected my voice to come out whiny, but instead it hardened and growled, "What?"

"Hello, America. I apologize for not calling sooner," Ivan's calm voice said over the speaker. It sounded sweet as usual but almost... regretful? Was that the correct word?

My shell slipped quickly, and my tone softened. "Hey, Russia," I said, though I still sounded guarded even to me.

A silence invaded the airspace between us. I rocked on my heels, shivering as the steam in the bathroom started to dissipate.

Finally, Ivan spoke, "Are you naked?"

"...What?"

How the hell did he know?!

Ivan chuckled almost wryly. "Everytime we talk on the phone, I hear your pants unzipping~" he said suggestively.

A blush bloomed on over my cheeks. My hand immediately went to cover my crotch in embarrassment. "That's not true!" I protested, my blush worsening as I realized it was pretty much true.

"Yes, okay," Russia sighed, still giggling softly. "I apologize, Mr. America~"

"Now what did you call me for? Just to gloat about... about... I don't know, your stupid ass communism or something?" I snapped. My heart jumped into my throat when I said "stupid ass communism", but I pushed it down. Why was I so afraid of bashing his ideas that I didn't agree with? After all, I could speak my mind; relationships were about equality and love, right?

Another silence buzzed between us. "Russia?" I said after a while.

"I called to tell you that I never really wanted to romance you at first," Russia finally replied, his voice soft and dangerous. "It was my boss' idea. He saw how in love you were with me before I did. When I finally noticed it, he said I should return the 'love' so as to get you to trust me, and if you trusted me, I could get inside your head and tear you apart from the inside out."

My heart broke again - two jagged pieces shattered in a million more jagged pieces. "You mean... you never really liked me?" I murmured, my tone low.

"Not at first. You annoyed me." He sighed remorsefully. "But America, you are not that bad. I learned, after several months, to see the good in you. The man who fought for his people to be free of oppressive British rule. The boy who tore his country apart for people who weren't even technically considered people - the African-American slaves. You were valiant, responsive, talkative, and... maybe even intelligent when it suited you."

"But you never loved me," I pressed on. My lower lip trembled, and a pathetic sniffle could be heard. It echoed against the walls of the bathroom - an audible sadness.

"I did."

My face went slack. My sniffles stopped. "...You're not lying?" I asked, suddenly suspicious. "You're not trying to 'get inside' my head again, are you?"

"No. I called you of my own accord," Russia answered. I could hear a smile in his voice, a very small smile. "You are right to distrust me. And I don't expect you to forgive me, but please, before the next world meeting, I want to..." His voice broke off. A weakness. Russia had a weakness? "Please, America..." he began again softly, "I didn't... I didn't want to hurt you. I only wanted to do what was right for my country!"

I don't know why it happened, but when I felt like I should cry, all I felt was a shell of ice materializing around my heart. My eyes sharpened, my voice roughened. I reached calculatingly toward my towel and proceeded to wrap it around myself one-handedly. "If you can put aside love for your country, so can I," I said coolly. "This will be brilliant for the press. I'll expose our relationship, start a propaganda campaign, and show the whole world how cruel the Russians are."

"A-America..." Then, without warning, his voice changed like mine, "You don't want to do that."

"Oh, yes, I do~" I replied with a sinister chuckle. "Your freezer-burned country won't know what hit them when the whole world rallies against you~"

"No one is going to believe the arrogant American," Russia said coldly.

"No one's going to believe the Communist bastard, either."

Ivan went silent on the other line, a cold fury radiating over the airwaves. My heart and hands trembled in fear, but I held my ground. The bastard had  _wanted_ to hurt me,  _wanted_ to drive my country into the ground even when he  _loved_ me. I couldn't believe that was what love really was. That couldn't be what people who are married and in a relationship go through. That  _can't_ be.

Wait, hadn't France said something about what kind of relationship I was in before? He had actually looked worried for my well-being (a change from him pleading for money). What had he called it? An... abubive... no, an abusive relationship! Yes, that's what it was! Categorized by emotional, physical, or mental harassment and pain by a person's partner. Fear fit into that equation quite well, and I realized that France had definitely been right. Why had I been so blind to it? My body ached for humiliation and the kind of agony only he could give me which I hadn't ever given a thought to before Russia came along. The sick, Communist fuck had turned me into a masochistic pig. Great. Just fucking great.

"You wanna talk, Russia?" I said softly, my voice smooth and dangerously low. "You wanna talk? Let's talk. We'll meet tomorrow, at that coffee shop just around the street from your house. I know how much you love it. That's where you spilled hot coffee on the crotch of my pants and told everyone I had an accident. Remember that photo that was released a few days later? I guess it was you, huh? You took it when I wasn't looking." I chuckled darkly, an uncharacteristic sadist nature taking over me. I hated it. Every fiber of my being hated it, but I couldn't let Ivan control me any longer. So I had to fight fire with fire - it's the only way people ever win wars.

"America, I apologized-" Ivan said through his teeth, obviously trying not to seethe.

"Yeah, whatever. Apologies can't help now."

"You spoiled American brat! Wouldn't you do something, anything, for your country?" Russia exclaimed, his accent growing thicker until it was just barely understandable. "Please! I really only want to be your lover now. I want to apologize, to make it right-"

"Well, you can't," I said coldly. My hand clenched, and I realized I was still naked. Cool air nipped over my skin, but I tried to ignore it. I had nothing to be ashamed of, not even when I was naked. "You know what? I don't wanna talk anymore. And you know what else-"

"America!"

I ignored him and plowed ahead, "If you ever,  _ever_ get another boyfriend again, I'm shooting him. And then I'm shooting you and your fucking damn country that tore us apart. Because, fuck it, I liked you! I loved you. I  _did_. But why would you care? Your loyalties lie in another area of the fucking world that I don't agree with but was going to give a  _chance_ to. But shit on that now and give it to a child in Africa on Christmas, 'cause damn it, Russia, I  _hate_ this. I'm sick of being depressed. I'm sick of it!" _  
_

"You were... depressed?" Russia whimpered softly. I could hear him draw in a deep breath, calling up the anger inside of him. "Look, I know I don't deserve this, America, but  _please_ , you're all about mercy and justice. I am truly sorry! But I can't have you desecrate me or my country-" _  
_

I laughed hysterically. "It's always about you and your country, isn't it, Russia?" I yelled. I hung up before I lost the nerve and threw my phone down the hall. It crashed against the hardwood floor, and I vaguely heard the screen crack. Whatever. I'll just get a new one. I'm  _not_ going to be the broken thing around here, anymore.

Slamming the bathroom door, I charged into my room and angrily threw my clothes on. The T-shirt fabric scratched at my skin, and the jeans felt odd clinging to my somewhat-damp legs. My hair still dripped, and I scrubbed my hands through it, flinging water to all corners of my room.

Russia. Russia. That goddamn motherfucker. I never wanted to see him again. I can't believe I fell for someone like that. Someone who would just use me as a pawn... My throat seized up. He  _had_ been doing it for his country... But his country was a bunch of assholes waiting to see anyone bleed. They wanted to see everyone else fail. And I was just the beginning.  _You won't get away with it, Russians,_ I thought. For a second, I saw Russia's smiling face as he held a sunflower out to me.  _"For you, America. Because your place is always sunny~!"_

I gripped the pockets of my jeans, my knuckles turning white. Those idiots had turned Russia into something he wasn't. It was  _their_ fault. All  _their_ fault my relationship had taken a turn for the absolute worst.  _Their fault_ I had lost someone I loved. And they were going down. Russia could have ruined me, took away everything I owned and cherished, and I really wouldn't have wanted anyone but him. I loved him - I  _love_ him. And once I destroy the people who took him away from me, I'll take him back. I'll make him bow down to me, worship me, love me with all his heart like he did to me. Because that's what he considers love to be, right?

 

**A/N: Heheh... wow... This was kind of angsty. Sorry about that... So, I might write another chapter for this, but I'm not sure. So we'll see! 'Til next time! Byebye!!! :3**


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